


Seven Days

by Messi10_Neymar11



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:03:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messi10_Neymar11/pseuds/Messi10_Neymar11
Summary: The day Lionel Messi committed suicide was a shock to the entire footballing community.Cristiano Ronaldo is given the opportunity to stop it before it happens. The only problem is that he has just seven days to prove to a man who’s lost all hope, that his life is worth living for.





	Seven Days

_Time of death was 1:32 am, December 15th 2014._

 

He had hung himself.

 

That’s what Cristiano had heard.

 

There were no pictures of his face. The only thing Cristiano had seen blaring all over the internet was images of a body covered in a white cloth being wheeled out of his house on a stretcher into an ambulance.

 

At first Cristiano laughed when he saw it, not believing it for a second.

 

And then he saw James crying in front of his locker, phone in hand and it hit him with full force.

 

He hadn’t even realized he was screaming in horror until Marcelo hugged him tightly, pleading him to calm down.

 

He couldn’t. His phone was thrown across the locker room- Cristiano was afraid of it.

 

Sergio was in front of him then, hands on his cheeks and talking in a rushed and panicked voice. It was then that he realized he was sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 

“Shh Cris.”

 

”We need you to calm down, okay?”

 

”Don’t think about it.”

 

”Do you need a ride home?”

 

”It’ll be okay- I promise.”

 

He remembers vividly that there was no snow that day in Madrid. The air was warm, the breeze soft and the stars seemed brighter than usual. It reminded Cristiano of that time when his father passed away and his mother told him that when people died, they became stars in the sky. Maybe that’s why they were twinkling so much. _Was it because of you, Messi?_

 

It was a warm Winter in Madrid, but it had never felt so cold.

 

Iker and Sergio were allowed invitations to the funeral as representation from Real Madrid to show support. Cris had practically begged Di Maria to talk to the Messi family- to let him come since he wasn’t invited. And with good reason, too. Why would they invite him? Who was Cristiano to Messi anyway? A rival? An enemy?

 

_A reason he may have killed himself?_

 

The thought made Cristiano sick.

 

And it was a blessing almost when that text came.

 

_**Unknown:** _

_I don't know why you’re so desperate to come, but I talked to Leo’s mother and she said that you can come to the funeral with Casillas and Ramos._

 

_This is Sergio Aguero, by the way._

 

Cristiano let out a breath of relief. 

 

_**Cris:** _

_Thank you._

 

_**Kun:** _

_Yeah, well- Leo would’ve wanted you there._

 

Cristiano doesn’t reply. He doesn’t believe him.

 

-

 

The funeral in the little church in Rosario was, to put it short, absolutely depressing.

 

Cristiano stares at the colorful glass behind the dark brown coffin. It reminded him of Messi’s tattoo for some reason. There was a big pink flower in the middle as light shown through despite the gloomy day. 

 

He didn’t know why his feet were moving even though his mind was still.

 

He ignored Iker and Sergio calling for him to sit back down in small voices. His steps were slowly and shaky, uncalculated. Such movements from the great Cristiano Ronaldo who danced so smoothly with the ball on the pitch seemed unnatural somehow.

 

And when he climbed up the steps, and peered into the coffin, he felt odd. Leo’s cheeks weren’t their usual rosy flush, skin pale. His lips were pale as well- as if he’d been out in the snow for years. His hair was combed out of his face, but Cristiano noticed it looked different- different because Leo wasn’t the one who did it. Despite all this, strangely enough, he’d never seen Leo look so calm and relaxed in the past seven years of knowing him.

 

And it felt _wrong_ , somehow.

 

It was when a shadow looked in next to him that Cristiano realized he was reaching out to touch him. Celia stared at him. Cristiano drew back in regret. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly then. “I didn’t mean to-“

 

”It’s alright.” Her voice is quiet, no emotion present. “He looks so peaceful.” Cristiano can’t help saying.

 

Celia stared down at her son. “He does, doesn’t he?”

 

And it’s so immensely intimate that Cristiano looks away. He can’t even imagine how the mother must be feeling- what must be going on in her mind..

 

He gives Leo a last look, hoping- praying that it’s all a dream. When his eyes lower to see the bruises of rope cuts in the neck of the Argentine, he knows it isn’t.

 

 

When they drop the last pieces of dirt over the body of Lionel Messi, Cristiano can’t even look, staring intently at his hands. It was raining, the cold water running over his suit and soaking into his skin. The grey clouds hid the sun, letting no rays of warmth through. 

 

Everyone began leaving, apparently going back to the house to share memories. Cristiano couldn’t move from the chair that sunk further into the grass as the rain poured down relentlessly.

 

”Cris, we're going to the hotel.” Iker murmurs from next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder. Cristiano didn’t reply, eyes staring grimly up at the tombstone.

 

Iker sighs. “I know this is difficult for you,” and it shocks Cris to hear the complete pain in the keeper’s voice, the way he spoke shakily. “It’s hard for all of us. And.. And if you need a moment, then take your time. But- come back to the hotel once your done.”

 

And then Iker was gone dragging a disheartened Sergio after him.

 

When Celia passed by Cristiano to leave, she softly put her umbrella in his hand. “You’re going to catch a cold if you sit out in the rain like this, boy.” She murmurs although her eyes a red with shed tears.

 

He handed it back to her so she didn’t get wet. “I just need a minute.”

 

“Leo always did admire you.” She began and Cristiano tensed, not expecting it. “I didn’t understand at first, but now..”

 

She stared at him. “Now I see why.”

 

Then she was gone, leaving him alone.

 

And the tears began falling, undetectable through the raindrops that ran over as well. He hunch over as sobs wrecked through his body, uncontrollable.

 

He just wanted to know what went wrong. Wanted to fix it. Why would Leo do such an awful thing when his life was so perfect? And it hurt- it hurt so much when the realization that his drive, his passion was going to slowly deflate without that purpose- without that _reason_.

 

Over his crying, he heard a voice.

 

”What a sad sight.”

 

He looked up, eyes puffy and cheeks red. Sitting all the way in the front, gazing at the tombstone emotionlessly. He was dressed in an all white suit. His skin was unnaturally pale and, to be blunt, flawless. His eyes were an icy blue and his blonde wet hair was pushed back out of his face.

 

“Who are you?” Cristiano manages to croak out, voice hoarse.

 

”Just a passer.” The man stood, turning to stare at Cristiano. 

 

“What’s your name?” Cristiano pressed on.

 

”My name?” The man smiles, but it seems cold almost. “My name is Redemption.”

 

Cristiano frowned in confusion. “What?”

 

He’s ignored, blue eyes turning to gaze at the tombstone again. The man walks over running his fingers over the top of the cool stone, resting his chin on it and gazing at Cristiano with a small smile. “Yes. What a sad sight indeed.” 

 

Cristiano’s chest flared in anger at the blatant disrespect from this man who casually walked over and touched Leo’s tombstone like it was nothing but a toy. “Get the fuck out! How dare you stand there mocking such a tragedy!” Cristiano hissed.

 

”You care a lot more than I thought you would.” The man seems surprised. Cristiano is beyond furious by now, standing up from his chair and taking a few threatening steps over to him. 

 

“Get away from his-“

 

”Would you change it?” The man suddenly demanded, gaze hard. Cristiano faltered. “What..?”

 

”Would you change it? Would you-“ the man gazed up at Cristiano with eyes filled with secrets. “Would you want to save him?”

 

”What are you saying!? Just leave!” Cristiano cried, feeling so hurt. “Do you have any empathy at all!?”

 

”Yes I do have empathy, actually- I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” The man shrugs. “When souls kill theirselves before allowing death to take them part, I decide whether or not they get a second chance.”

 

Cristiano glared at him in disgust. “You’re aboslutely sick in the head. Leo died! There’s no changing it-“

 

”Then let me ask you one last time Cristiano Ronaldo- and let me tell you right now to think very carefully about your answer because it’s the last one I’m taking, do you understand?” The man hissed, staring at Cristiano with blaring intensity. And poor Cris couldn’t help but listen.

 

”If you could save Lionel Messi from killing himself, would you? If you were given the chance to save his life, would you do it?” He asks with such seriousness that Cristiano’s anger deflates.

 

Cristiano is tired. Very tired. “Yes- yes I would. I want him back. I-I want to know why and I want to stop it. I want to help him. I don’t want him to die!” He cried out, biting back a choked sob.

 

The man seems pleased. “And if I could give you this opportunity?”

 

Cristiano cried even louder. “You can’t! He’s _gone_!”

 

”Are you so sure?”

 

The Portuguese faltered suddenly, looking up at him with confusion. “Can you..?”

 

The man lets out a dark laugh before he’s suddenly striding towards Cristiano, grabbing his wrist. Cristiano shrieks in pain when it starts burning, the man’s eyes glowing.

 

When he lets go, Cris pulls his arm to his chest, looking down at it while sniffling. There’s numbers on his skin, like a tattoo. When he rubs against it, it doesn’t leave.

 

_**168:00:00** _

 

All of a sudden there’s a bunch of colors swirling around him and his gaze blurs, Leo’s tombstone vanishing from his sight. 

 

Instead of rain drenched clothes, his skin feels warm with sweat. Instead of mud there’s freshly cut grass. Instead of gloomy dark clouds, there’s blinding stadium lights. Instead of his tux, he’s wearing his Real Madrid kit. Instead of empty chairs in a graveyard, there’s a packed stadium filled with cheering fans and legendary players.

 

His breath gets caught in his throat. Because instead of a deathly pale body seven feet under the ground, there’s Leo standing across from him, yards away- looking as healthy and living as ever in his Barcelona kit, hands on his hips and a displeased frown on his face as he blinks at the scoreboard, cheeks rosy red with sweat.

 

Cristiano let out a cry of disbelief.

 

”I’m giving you seven days, Ronaldo. Seven days to stop Lionel Messi from killing himself.” The man suddenly says from next to him.

 

Cristiano turned to him. “How? How do I do that!?” He cried out. The man stares at him, blue eyes piercing. “Give him a reason worth living for.” He murmurs then walking backwards.

 

The whistle blows to end the match. Leo runs a frustrated hand through his hair, eyes filled with disappointment as Real Madrid players celebrate around him.

 

“Seven days.” He says a final time, disappearing in thin air. “Your time starts now.”

 

Cristiano looks down at his wrist as numbers began decreasing.

 

_**167:59:59** _

 

_**167:59:58** _

 

_**167:59:57** _

 

_**167:59:56** _

 

_**167:59:55.....** _

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to stop starting series when I have like ten unfinished ones. (SorryNotSorry)
> 
> This is probs the saddest fic I’ve written so far.
> 
> Hope you like it at least!


End file.
